Help from another world
by Eruanwa
Summary: At a time of crisis for Olympus, eight mysterious demigods came to Camp Half-Blood. Are they for good or for evil? And who exactly are they? (Rewrite of the PJatO series from Book 4, don't know if I'll continue on to the THoO series, leave your suggestions below!)
1. Foreword

**Foreword**

This work is an improvised experiment and a proof of concept. They might be errors, inconsistencies or mistakes in this work and there would most likely be a rewrite once I finish this. Please feel free to leave constructive feedback!

 **Disclaimer** : Other than the characters I created, these characters don't belong to me. This is mainly a crossover of the Percy Jackson books and the version of the Legendarium _Fiondil_ made. Search him up if you like, it is a fascinating read.

Now on with the story! -


	2. Prologue: Strange Children

**Prologue: Strange Children**

It was a fine day when Seb the satyr took in eight demigods into the camp. They found Chiron in the Big House waiting for them.

These children have been the strangest demigods Chiron had ever seen. Them being able to pass the border indicates that they are of godly descent, yet the auras they emit were strange and not of anything Chiron had seen before. Interesting, he thought. His existence of over 3000 years increased in knowledge on Gods from different pantheons, yet Chiron cannot pinpoint the godly parents of those children.

"Gleeson, how did you come to find these demigods?" inquired Chiron after the children being lead to watch the orientation film.

"I find the group wandering near the Pachaug State Forest. They were fighting a band of monsters when I sensed their presence. Judging from how they fought, they may have fought for their lives for couples of years before being found," stated Seb.

"One thing I was confused about was the auras around them," Seb continued. "I have guided many demigods and have been familiar with the auras of demigods of the Olympians. Yet I cannot identify the auras of these children. Do you have any clues?"

"This is also something I find strange," said Chiron. "Long have I tutored demigods of various descent, yet the children are strange. I've never felt such I powerful aura for a long time, an aura even stronger than the children of the Big Three. We need to keep an eye on them, lest they proved a threat to the camp. I shall notify Dionysus of the situation at hand. The gods need to know about this sudden turn of events."

"It is at this moment that the children emerged from the den. "You are a centaur?" said the boy called Michael.

"Yes, Michael. I prefer to be in my wheelchair form when meeting new people. Now, will you go down to with Gleeson to the cabins? I'm sure you'll find the cabins accommodating," replied Chiron.

After the children are gone, Chiron then proceded to look for Dionysus. "Probably looking for wine," he said to himself.


	3. Chapter 1: Back to Camp

**Chapter 1: Back to Camp**

"Any word on Luke?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shook her head. This was a touchy subject for her. Annabeth had always admired Luke, the former head counsellor for Hermes who had betrayed Olympus and Camp Half-Blood and joined the evil Titan Lord Kronos. She wouldn't admit it, but Percy knew she still liked him. When they'd fought Luke on Mount Tamalpais last winter, he'd survived a fifty-foot fall off a cliff. Now, he was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while the Titan Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods.

"Mount Tam is still overrun with monsters," Annabeth said. "I didn't dare go close, but I don't think Luke is up there. I think I would know if he was."

That didn't make Percy feel much better. "What about Grover?"

"He's at camp," she said. "We'll see him today."

"Did he have any luck? I mean, with the search for Pan?"

Annabeth fingered her bead necklace, the way she does when she's worried.

"You'll see," she said. But she didn't explain.

As they headed through Brooklyn, Percy used Annabeth's phone to call his mom. Half-bloods try not to use cell phones if they can avoid it as broadcasting their voices is like activating a beacon to the monsters. But this call was important. He left a message on his home voicemail, trying to explain what had happened at Goode.

They rode in silence after that. The city melted away until they were off the expressway and rolling through the countryside of northern Long Island, past orchards and wineries and fresh-produce stands.

Percy stared at the phone number Rachel Elizabeth Dare had scrawled on his hand. He knew it was crazy, but he was tempted to call her. Maybe she could help him understand what the empousa had been talking about — the camp burning, his friends imprisoned. And why had Kelli exploded into flames?

Monsters never truly died. Eventually — maybe weeks, months, or years from now — Kelli would re-form out of the Tartarus. But still, monsters didn't usually let themselves get destroyed so easily. If she really was destroyed.

The taxi exited on Route 25A. They headed through the woods along the North Shore until a low ridge of hills appeared on their left. Annabeth told the driver to pull over on Farm Road 3.141, at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

The driver frowned. "There ain't nothing here, miss. You sure you want out?"

"Yes, please," Annabeth handed him a roll of mortal cash, and the driver decided not to argue.

Annabeth and Percy hiked to the crest of the hill. The young guardian dragon was dozing, coiled around the pine tree, but he lifted his coppery head as they approached and allowed Annabeth to scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out his nostrils like from a tea kettle, and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Hey, Peleus," Annabeth said. "Keeping everything safe?"

During the winter, he'd been six feet long. Now he was at least twice that, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp's borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed like everything was okay. Below them, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful — green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse called the Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

Still… something felt wrong. There was tension in the air as if the hill itself were holding its breath, waiting for something bad to happen.

They walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. Most of the campers had arrived last Friday, so Percy felt out of it. The satyrs were playing their pipes in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow with woodland magic. Campers were having flying horseback lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges, and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for Arts & Crafts. The Athena and Demeter teams were having a chariot race around the track, and over at the canoe lake, some kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent. A typical day at camp.

"I need to talk to Clarisse," Annabeth said.

Percy stared at Annabeth, "What for?"

"We've been working on something," Annabeth said. "I'll see you later."

"Working on what?"

Annabeth glanced toward the forest.

"I'll tell Chiron you're here," she said. "He'll want to talk to you before the hearing."

"What hearing?"

But she jogged down the path toward the archery field without looking back.

"Yeah," Percy muttered. "Great talking with you, too."

* * *

As Percy was strolling through the sword arena, he came across a hellhound the size of a tank. It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. He pulled out Riptide and uncapped it, trying to catch the monster off guard.

"Yaaaaah!" Percy charged. He brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked his strike.

 _CLANG!_

Percy jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman — a grey-haired man in Greek armour. He parried Percy's attack with no problem.

"Whoa there!" he said. "Truce!"

" _WOOF!_ " The hellhound's bark shook the arena.

"That's a hellhound!" Percy shouted.

"She's harmless," the man said. "That's Mrs O'Leary."

Percy blinked, not believing the man's words, "Mrs O'Leary?"

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. Percy realised she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand, he grabbed the armoured manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armour. She began chewing on its helmet.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties, with short grey hair and a clipped grey beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before Percy could make out what it was, he shifted his armour straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

"Mrs O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."

"Who are you?"

"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"

"I guess."

He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

Percy shook his hand. It was as rough as sandpaper.

"Percy Jackson," Percy said. "Sorry about—How did you, um—"

"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with death and quite a few giant chew toys. I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr D is away."

"Oh." Percy tried not to stare as Mrs O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. "Wait, Mr D is away?"

"Yes, well… busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."

Dionysus is the camp director because Zeus had sent him here as a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph. He hated the campers and tried to make their lives miserable. With him away, Percy thought, this summer might actually be enjoyable. Yet if Dionysus had gotten off his butt and actually started helping the gods recruit against the Titan threat, things must be getting dire.

Off to my left, there was a loud _BUMP_. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.

"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.

The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides:

TRIPLE G RANCH

FRAGILE

THIS END UP

Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE, MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.

"What's in the boxes?" Percy asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"Uh, okay," Percy said, though he wasn't sure about the "excruciatingly painful death" part.

Quintus threw the bronze shield, and Mrs O'Leary lumbered after it. "You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

"You-you're a half-blood?" Percy blurted, having never seen an old demigod before.

Quintus chuckled. "Some of us do survive into adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subject of terrible prophecies."

"You know about my prophecy?"

"I've heard a few things."

Percy wanted to ask what few things Quintus had heard when Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Percy, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"I see you've met our new instructor." Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. "Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me 'Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. "Come, Percy. We have much to discuss."

Percy took one more glance at Mrs O'Leary, who was now chewing off the target dummy's legs.

"Well, see you," Percy told Quintus.

As we were walking away, Percy whispered to Chiron, "Quintus seemed kind of—"

"Mysterious?" Chiron suggested. "Hard to read?"

"Yeah."

Chiron nodded. "A very qualified half-blood. An excellent swordsman, I just wish I understood..."

Whatever he was going to say, he apparently changed his mind. "First things first, Percy. Annabeth told me you met some _empousai_."

"Yeah," Percy told him about the fight at Goode, and how Kelli had exploded into flames.

"Mm," Chiron said. "The more powerful ones can do that. She did not die, Percy. She simply escaped. It is not good that the she-demons are stirring."

"What were they doing there?" Percy asked. "Waiting for me?"

"Possibly," Chiron frowned. "It is amazing you survived. Their powers of deception… almost any male hero would've fallen under their spell and been devoured."

"I would've been," Percy admitted. "Except for Rachel."

Chiron nodded. "Ironic to be saved by a mortal, yet we owe her a debt. What the empousa said about an attack on camp — we must speak of this further, followed by other urgent matters. But for now, come, we should get to the woods. Grover will want you there."

"Where?"

"At his formal hearing," Chiron said grimly. "The Council of Cloven Elders is meeting now to decide his fate."

* * *

Chiron ushered Percy to hurry, and thus gave him a ride on his back. Chiron plunged into the woods. Nymphs peeked out of the trees to watch us pass. Large shapes rustled in the shadows — monsters that were stocked in here as a challenge to the campers, through a tunnel of old willow trees, past a little waterfall, and into a glade blanketed with wildflowers.

A bunch of satyrs were sitting in a circle in the grass. Grover stood in the middle, facing three really old, really fat satyrs who sat on topiary thrones shaped out of rose bushes. Percy'd never seen the three old satyrs before, but I guessed they must be the Council of Cloven Elders.

Grover seemed to be telling them a story. He twisted the bottom of his T-shirt, shifting nervously on his goat hooves. He hadn't changed much since Percy last saw him. His acne had flared up. His horns had gotten a little bigger so they just stuck out over his curly hair.

Standing off to one side of the circle were Annabeth, two girls he'd never seen before, and Clarisse. Chiron dropped Percy next to them.

Clarisse's stringy brown hair was tied back with a camouflage bandanna. If possible, she looked even buffer, like she'd been working out. She glared at Percy and muttered, "Punk," which must've meant she was in a good mood. Usually, she says hello by trying to kill him.

Annabeth had her arm around one of the other girls, who looked like she'd been crying. She was petite, with wispy hair the colour of amber and a pretty, elfish face. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's going terribly," she sniffled.

"No, no," Annabeth patted her shoulders.

"He'll be fine, Juniper." Juniper was Grover' girlfriend.

Her eyes, instead of being red from crying, were tinged green, the colour of chlorophyll. She was a tree nymph — a dryad.

Percy tried to see who the other girl was. The girl was not more than fourteen years old, younger than him by a year. Yet she looked enamoured by the council before and wore a green dress that resembled the greenery around her.

"Master Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say and Percy's observations. "Do you seriously expect us to believe this?"

"B-but Silenus," Grover stammered. "It's the truth!"

Silenus turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them, being an honorary member of the council. The elders didn't look very impressive. They had huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn't see past the next handful of goat chow. Percy wasn't sure why Grover seemed so nervous.

Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Master Underwood, for six months — six months — we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."

"But I did!"

"Impudence!" said the elder on the left.

"Now, Maron," Chiron said. "Patience."

"Patience, indeed!" Maron said. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to... to _him_."

Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Annabeth and Clarisse held her back. "Wrong fight, girlie," Clarisse muttered. "Wait."

Percy doesn't know what surprised him more: Clarisse holding someone back from a fight, or the fact that she and Annabeth, who despised each other, almost seemed like they were working together.

The mysterious girl, Percy noticed, remained unmoved. Maybe she was new, he thought.

"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"

"I just need more time," Grover pleaded.

"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."

"But, Leneus —"

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs. The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

"Master Underwood," Silenus announced, "we will give you one more chance."

Grover brightened. "Thank you!"

"One more week."

"What? But sir! That's impossible!"

"One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theatre, perhaps. Or tap dancing."

"But sir, I — I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life —"

"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies. The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food. Grover walked dejectedly toward them. His faded blue T-shirt had a picture of a satyr on it. It read "GOT HOOVES?"

"Hi, Percy," he said, so depressed he didn't even offer to shake my hand. "That went well, huh?"

"Those old goats!" Juniper said. "Oh, Grover, they don't know how hard you've tried!"

The mysterious girl muttered something under her breath which Percy had failed to catch. Though it sounded like she was disappointed with the decision.

"There is another option," Clarisse said darkly.

"No. No." Juniper shook her head. "Grover, I won't let you."

His face was ashen. "I — I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Annabeth pursed her lips. "I'll fill you in later, Percy. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

* * *

Every afternoon, one of the senior counsellors came around with a papyrus scroll checklist. Best cabin got the first shower hour, which meant hot water guaranteed. Worst cabin got kitchen patrol after dinner. Despite Percy having just arrived, he was no exception to this rule.

Percy was usually the only one in the Poseidon cabin, and he's not exactly what you would call neat. The cleaning harpies only came through on the last day of summer, so his cabin was probably just the way he'd left it on winter break: his candy wrappers and chip bags still on his bunk, his armour for capture the flag lying in pieces all around the cabin.

Percy raced toward the commons area, where the twelve cabins — one for each Olympian god — made a U around the central green. The Demeter kids were sweeping out theirs and making fresh flowers grow in their window boxes. Just by snapping their fingers they could make honeysuckle vines bloom over their doorway and daisies cover their roof; while the guys in the Hermes cabin were scrambling around in a panic, stashing dirty laundry under their beds and accusing each other of taking stuff. They were slobs, but they still had a head start on Percy.

Over at the Aphrodite cabin, Silena Beauregard was just coming out, checking items off the inspection scroll. Percy cursed under my breath. Silena was nice, but she was an absolute neat freak, the worst inspector. She liked things to be pretty. He didn't do "pretty." He could almost feel his arms getting heavy from all the dishes he would have to scrub tonight.

The Poseidon cabin was at the end of the row of "male god" cabins on the right side of the green. It was made of grey shell-encrusted sea rock, long and low like a bunker, but it had windows that faced the sea and it always had a good breeze blowing through it.

Percy dashed inside, wondering if maybe he could do a quick under-the-bed cleaning job like the Hermes guys, and he found his half-brother Tyson sweeping the floor.

"Percy!" he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at Percy.

"Hey, big guy!" Percy said. "Ow, watch the ribs. The ribs."

He proceeded to put Percy down, grinning like crazy, his single calf-brown eye full of excitement. His teeth were as yellow and crooked as ever, and his hair was a rat's nest. He wore ragged XXXL jeans and a tattered flannel shirt under his flowered apron, but he was still a sight for sore eyes. Percy hadn't seen him in almost a year since he'd gone under the sea to work at the Cyclopes' forges.

"You are okay?" Tyson asked. "Not eaten by monsters?"

"Not even a little bit." Percy showed him that he still had both arms and both legs, and Tyson clapped happily.

"Yay!" he said. "Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Annabeth and make things go BOOM!"

Percy hoped he didn't mean all at the same time, but he told Tyson absolutely, they'd have a lot of fun this summer. Percy couldn't help smiling, Tyson was so enthusiastic about everything.

"But first," Percy said, "we've gotta worry about the inspection. We should…"

Then he looked around and realized Tyson had been busy. The floor was swept. The bunk beds were made. The saltwater fountain in the corner had been freshly scrubbed so the coral gleamed. On the windowsills, Tyson had set out water-filled vases with sea anemones and strange glowing plants from the bottom of the ocean, more beautiful than any flower bouquets the Demeter kids could whip up.

"Tyson, the cabin looks… amazing!"

He beamed. "See the fish ponies? I put them on the ceiling!"

A herd of miniature bronze hippocampi hung on wires from the ceiling, so it looked like they were swimming through the air. Percy couldn't believe Tyson, with his huge hands, could make things so delicate. Then Percy looked over at his bunk, and he saw his old shield hanging on the wall.

"You fixed it!"

The shield had been badly damaged in a manticore attack the winter before. But now it was perfect again — without a single scratch. All the bronze pictures of his adventures with Tyson and Annabeth in the Sea of Monsters were polished and gleaming.

Percy looked at Tyson, not know how to thank him.

Then somebody behind him said, "Oh, my."

Silena Beauregard was standing in the doorway with her inspection scroll. She stepped into the cabin, did a quick twirl, then raised her eyebrows at Percy. "Well, I had my doubts. But you clean up nicely, Percy. I'll remember that."

She winked at him and left the room.

* * *

Tyson and Percy proceeded to spend the afternoon catching up and just hanging out.

Then they went down to the forge and helped Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin with his metalworking. Tyson showed them how he'd learned to craft magic weapons. He fashioned a flaming double-bladed war axe so fast even Beckendorf was impressed.

While he worked, Tyson told them about his year under the sea. His eye lit up when he described the Cyclopes' forges and the palace of Poseidon, but he also told them how tense things were. The old gods of the sea, who'd ruled during Titan times, were starting to make war on their father. When Tyson had left, battles had been raging all over the Atlantic. Hearing that made Percy feel anxious, like he should be helping out, but Tyson assured him that Poseidon wanted them both at camp.

"Lots of bad people above the sea, too," Tyson said. "We can make them go boom."

It was at this time a girl with fiery eyes showed behind them, enamoured with the craftsmanship of the axe. Beckendorf then took him to the deeper parts of the forge and started to teach him the art of weapon-crafting.

After the forges, they spent some time at the canoe lake with Annabeth. She was really glad to see Tyson, but Percy could tell she was distracted. She kept looking over at the forest like she was thinking about Grover's problem with the council. Percy couldn't blame her. Grover was nowhere to be seen, and he felt really bad for him. Finding the lost god Pan had been his lifelong goal. His father and his uncle had both disappeared following the same dream. Last winter, Grover had heard a voice in his head: _I await you_ — a voice he was sure belonged to Pan — but apparently, his search had led nowhere. If the council took away his searcher's license now, it would crush him.

"What's this 'other way'?" Percy asked Annabeth. "The thing Clarisse mentioned?"

She picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake. "Something Clarisse scouted out. I helped her a little this spring. But it would be dangerous. Especially for Grover."

"Goat boy scares me," Tyson murmured.

Percy stared at him. Tyson had faced down fire-breathing bulls and sea monsters and cannibal giants. "Why would you be scared of Grover?"

"Hooves and horns," Tyson muttered nervously. "And goat fur makes my nose itchy."

* * *

Before dinner, Tyson and Percy went down to the sword arena. Quintus was teaching some new kid how to do proper sword-fighting, yet he was glad to see them nonetheless. Quintus still wouldn't tell Percy what was in the wooden crates, but he did teach Percy a few sword moves. He fought the way some people play chess — like he was putting all the moves together and you couldn't see the pattern until he made the last stroke and won with a sword at your throat.

"Good try," he told Percy. "But your guard is too low."

He lunged and Percy blocked.

"Have you always been a swordsman?" Percy asked.

He parried Percy overhead cut. "I've been many things."

He jabbed and Percy sidestepped. His shoulder strap slipped down, and Percy saw that mark on his neck—the purple blotch. But it wasn't a random mark. It had a definite shape — a bird with folded wings.

"What's that on your neck?" Percy asked.

Quintus lost his rhythm. Percy hit his sword hilt and knocked the blade out of his hand.

He rubbed his fingers. Then he shifted his armour to hide the mark. It wasn't a tattoo, Percy realized. It was an old burn…

"A reminder." He picked up his sword and forced a smile. "Now, shall we go again?"

He pressed Percy hard, not giving him time for any more questions.

While he and Quintus fought, Tyson played with Mrs O'Leary, who he called the "little doggie." They had a great time wrestling for the bronze shield and playing Get the Greek. By sunset, Quintus hadn't even broken a sweat, which seemed kind of strange; but Tyson and Percy were hot and stick, so they hit the showers and got ready for dinner.

Percy was feeling good. It was almost like a normal day at camp. Then dinner came, and all the campers lined up by cabin and marched into the dining pavilion. Most of them ignored the sealed fissure in the marble floor at the entrance — a ten-foot-long jagged scar that hadn't been there last summer — but Percy was careful to step over it.

"Big crack," Tyson said when they were at their table. "Earthquake, maybe?"

"No," Percy said. "Not an earthquake."

"Nico di Angelo," Percy said, lowering his voice. "He's this half-blood kid we brought to camp last winter. He, uh… he asked me to guard his sister on a quest, and I failed. She died. Now he blames me."

Tyson frowned. "So he put a crack in the floor?"

"These skeletons attacked us," Percy said. "Nico told them to go away, and the ground just opened up and swallowed them. Nico…" Percy looked around to make sure no one was listening. "Nico is a son of Hades."

Tyson nodded thoughtfully. "The god of dead people."

"Yeah."

"So the Nico boy is gone now?"

"I — I guess. I tried to search for him this spring. So did Annabeth. But we didn't have any luck. This is secret, Tyson. Okay? If anyone found out he was a son of Hades, he would be in danger. You can't even tell Chiron."

"The bad prophecy," Tyson said. "Titans might use him if they knew."

The next child of the Big Three gods — Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades — who turned sixteen was prophesied to either save or destroy Mount Olympus. Most people assumed that meant Percy, but if he died before he turned sixteen, the prophecy could just as easily apply to Nico.

"Exactly," Percy said. "So —"

"Mouth sealed," Tyson promised. "Like the crack in the ground."

* * *

Wisps of fog drifted across the black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. Nico squatted at the riverbank of river Styx, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue colour. He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire — Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he'd been obsessed with.

Nico was only ten, or maybe eleven by now, but he looked older. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin had turned paler. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator's jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who'd been living on the streets.

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

"A childish game, master," another voice coming from near the fire agreed.

"I've failed," he muttered. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice kept silent.

Nico turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. It was the form of a man — a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. A ghost.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded. His eyes shined with a fierce light.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"Not yours," the ghost said. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Nico's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost said. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."

Nico stared at the flames. "Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would… she would help me."

"I will help you," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn't see him. A tear traced its way down his face. "Very well. You have a plan?"

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start by returning to the maze. Sleep master, for the trip will be harsh."


	4. Chapter 2: Discovery of the Labyrinth

**Chapter 2: The Discovery of the Labyrinth**

The bells rang with increasing intensity, an Aethiopian drakon had attacked the camp.

It was three in the morning, and Lee Fletcher was woken up by the shrill warning bells. He cast away his sleepiness immediately and rushed to the Big House. Here the head counsellors met together, minus Percy, head of the Poseidon cabin. Apparently, he was still sleeping sound amidst all the chaos and terror.

"We have to attack! This is getting more and more serious. Drakons! Who knows what he'll bring next time?" Clarisse argued.

Other counsellors were more hesitant. "Yes, Clarisse. The attacks on camp are getting more serious by the day, but are we capable to defend camp with what we have at the moment without causing too many casualties?" Annabeth rebutted.

The debate went on for half an hour before Lee Fletcher left the council. He proceeded to lead his fellow cabin members to hunt the drakon.

"Lee?" Will Solace asked. "I think the drakon's been here."

"Then let's follow the trail before its trail fade. Be careful! I don't want to lose you guys!" Lee warned.

They continued to follow the fading trail when they came across the drakon. The drakon was 30 feet long and bright green, its eyes dark as the pit of Tartarus. The drakon sensed something was near and was crawling around, looking for its prey.

Lee positioned his siblings to surround the drakon and prepare to fire. They patiently waited for the right moment, when one of the cabin members loosed his arrow and angered the drakon.

"Fire and retreat!" Lee shouted. The band retreated while the drakon proceeded, wishing to eat its attackers.

It was at this moment an arrow, white and shining, as though a gust of wind, shot through the drakon's eyes, and the drakon was no more.

As the beast crumbled into dust, Lee shouted towards the direction where the arrow was shot from, "Is it you Dad?" Yet no person or voice came out of the forest.

Lee found the arrow that hit the drakon. As soon as he touched it, the arrow glowed and engulfed the band of demigods, healing them fully.

Beleaguered by what had befallen them, they hastily returned to the camp and presented the arrow to Chiron, who examined it closely.

"This arrow is not of the gods or our campers. Yet it is elegantly crafted and deadly. I wonder how the Gods haven't made such advancements to their arrows, this exceeds the craftsmanship on the arrows of Apollo and Artemis…" Chiron said.

"There seems to be some kind of runes etched into the shaft," Lee pointed out.

"Yes, the arrow is edged in unknown characters, yet the mist translates it for me somehow and it reads 'The will of the Powers will be done.' I believe that these Powers refer to the Gods, but who made this?" Chiron wondered.

* * *

The excitement of the previous night continued on the next morning. Rumours had circulated regarding the drakon which attacked the camp, especially the one where a mysterious person struck down the beast with a single arrow. Naturally, many thought those as rumours.

"We're just trying to escape from that huge drakon when all of a sudden, a white blazing arrow shot through the drakon's eyes!" someone from the Apollo cabin claimed.

"Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. We don't know what would attack next, but this has happened before," Chiron said.

"Aye," Quintus said from the head table. "And it will happen more and more frequently."

The campers murmured among themselves.

Everyone knew the rumours: Luke and his army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp. Most of them expected it to happen that summer, but no one knew how or when. It didn't help that their attendance was down. They only had about eighty campers. Three years ago, when Percy'd started, there had been more than a hundred. Some had died. Some had joined Luke. Some had just disappeared.

"This is a good reason for new war games," Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes. "We'll see how you all do with that tonight."

"Yes…" Chiron said. "Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat." He raised his goblet. "To the gods."

They all raised their glasses and repeated the blessing, and they took their plates to the bronze brazier and scraped a portion of their food into the flames.

Once everyone was eating, Chiron and Grover came over to visit Percy at his table. Grover was bleary-eyed. His shirt was inside out. He slid his plate onto the table and slumped next to him.

Tyson shifted uncomfortably. "I will go… um… polish my fish ponies." He lumbered off, leaving his breakfast half-eaten.

Chiron tried for a smile, and said, "Well, Percy, how did you sleep?"

"Uh, fine," Percy replied, wondering why he asked that.

"I brought Grover over," Chiron said, "because I thought you two might want to, ah, discuss matters. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some Iris-messages to send. I'll see you later in the day." He gave Grover a meaningful look, then trotted out of the pavilion."

"What's he talking about?" Percy asked Grover. Grover chewed his eggs distractedly, biting the tines of his fork and chewed those down also. "He wants you to convince me," he mumbled.

Somebody else slid next to Percy on the bench: Annabeth.

"I'll tell you what it's about," she said. "The Labyrinth."

Annabeth then proceeded to talk about the Labyrinth. Percy was distracted, as everybody in the dining pavilion was stealing glances at them and whispering.

"You're not supposed to be here," Percy said.

"We need to talk," she insisted.

"But the rules…"

Campers weren't allowed to switch tables. Satyrs were different. They weren't really demigods. But the half-bloods had to sit with their cabins. Chiron had already left the pavilion. Quintus looked over and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything.

"Look," Annabeth said, "Grover is in trouble. There's only one way we can figure to help him. It's the Labyrinth. That's what Clarisse and I have been investigating."

Percy shifted his weight, trying to think clearly. "You mean the maze where they kept the Minotaur, back in the old days?"

"Exactly," Annabeth said.

"So… it's not under the king's palace in Crete anymore," he guessed. "The Labyrinth is under some building in America."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Under a building? Please, Percy. The Labyrinth is _huge_. It wouldn't fit under a single city, much less a single building."

"So… is the Labyrinth part of the Underworld?" Percy asked.

"No." Annabeth frowned. "Well, there may be passages from the Labyrinth down _into_ the Underworld. I'm not sure. But the Underworld is way, way down. The Labyrinth is right under the surface of the mortal world, kind of like a second skin. It's been growing for thousands of years, lacing its way under Western cities, connecting everything together underground. You can get anywhere through the Labyrinth."

"If you don't get lost," Grover muttered. "And die a horrible death."

"Grover, there has to be a way," Annabeth said. "Clarisse lived."

"Barely!" Grover said. "And the other guy—"

"He was driven insane. He didn't die."

"Oh, joy." Grover's lower lip quivered. "That makes me feel much better."

"Whoa," Percy said. "Back up. What's this about Clarisse and a crazy guy?" Annabeth glanced over toward the Ares table. Clarisse was watching them like she knew what they were talking about, but then she fixed her eyes on her breakfast plate.

"Last year," Annabeth said, lowering her voice, "Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron."

"I remember," Percy said. "It was secret."

Annabeth nodded. "It was secret," Annabeth agreed, "because she found Chris Rodriguez."

"The guy from the Hermes cabin?" Chris was one of the half-bloods who'd abandoned camp and joined the Titan Army.

"Yeah," Annabeth said. "Last summer he just appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near Clarisse's mom's house."

"What do you mean he just appeared?"

"He was wandering around the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armour, babbling about string."

"String," Percy said.

"He'd been driven completely insane. Clarisse brought him back to her mom's house so the mortals wouldn't institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health. Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn't much good. The only thing they got out of him: Luke's men have been exploring the Labyrinth."

Percy shivered, then he looked at Grover, who was chewing up the rest of his fork.

"Okay," Percy asked. "Why were they exploring the Labyrinth?"

"We weren't sure," Annabeth said. "That's why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn't want anyone panicking. He got me involved because… well, the Labyrinth has always been one of my favourite subjects. The architecture involved—" Her expression turned a little dreamy. "The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed."

"Except it's a maze, right?"

"Full of horrible traps," Grover agreed. "Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic goat-killing monsters."

"But not if you had Ariadne's string," Annabeth said. "In the old days, Ariadne's string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about string."

"So Luke is trying to find Ariadne's string," Percy said. "Why? What's he planning?"

Annabeth shook her head. "I don't know. I thought maybe he wanted to invade camp through the maze, but that doesn't make any sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, which wouldn't help Luke get past our borders. Clarisse explored a little way into the tunnels, but...it was very dangerous. She had some close calls. I researched everything I could find about Daedalus. I'm afraid it didn't help much. I don't understand exactly what Luke's planning, but I do know this: the Labyrinth might be the key to Grover's problem."

Percy blinked. "You think Pan is underground?"

"It would explain why he's been impossible to find."

Grover shuddered. "Satyrs hate going underground. No searcher would ever try going in _that_ place. No flowers. No sunshine. No coffee shops!"

"But," Annabeth said, "the Labyrinth can lead you almost anywhere. It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, trick you and kill you; but if you can make the Labyrinth work _for_ you—"

"It could lead you to the wild god," Percy said.

"I can't do it." Grover hugged his stomach. "Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up my silverware."

"Grover, it may be your last chance," Annabeth said. "The council is serious. _One_ week or you learn to tap dance!"

Over at the head table, Quintus cleared his throat. Percy got the feeling he didn't want to make a scene, but Annabeth was really pushing it, sitting at his table so long.

"We'll talk later," Annabeth squeezed Percy's arm a little too hard. "Convince him, will you?"

She returned to the Athena table, ignoring all the people who were staring at her.

Grover buried his head in his hands. "I can't do it, Percy. My searcher's license. Pan. I'm going to lose it all. I'll have to start a puppet theatre."

"Don't say that! We'll figure something out."

He looked at Percy teary-eyed. "Percy, you're my best friend. You've seen me underground. In that Cyclops's cave. Do you really think I could…"

His voice faltered. He'd never liked underground places to begin with, but the incident in the Sea of Monsters, when he'd been stuck a Cyclops's cave, made Grover really hated them. Cyclopes gave him the creeps, too. Even Tyson. Grover tried to hide it, but Grover and Percy's empathy link between them made Percy know how he felt. Grover was terrified of Tyson.

"I have to leave," Grover said miserably. "Juniper's waiting for me. It's a good thing she finds cowards attractive."

After he was gone, Percy looked over at Quintus. He nodded gravely, like they were sharing some dark secret. Then he went back to cutting his sausage with a dagger.

* * *

That night after dinner, Quintus had them suit up in combat armour like they were getting ready for capture the flag, but the mood among the campers was a lot more serious. Sometime during the day, the crates in the arena had disappeared, and Percy had a feeling whatever was in them had been emptied into the woods.

"Right," Quintus said, standing on the head dining table. "Gather 'round."

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. In the torchlight, his grey hair made him look like a ghost. Mrs O'Leary bounded happily around him, foraging for dinner scraps.

"You will be in teams of two," Quintus announced. When everybody started talking and trying to grab their friends, he yelled: "Which have already been chosen!"

"AWWWWW!" everybody complained.

"Your goal is simple: collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course… you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive."

The crowd started murmuring excitedly. The task sounded pretty straightforward. Hey, we'd all slain monsters before. That's what we trained for.

"I will now announce your partners," Quintus said. "There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining."

" _Aroooof!_ " Mrs O'Leary buried her face in a plate of pizza.

Quintus produced a big scroll and started reading off names. Beckendorf would be with Silena Beauregard, which Beckendorf looked pretty happy about. The Stoll brothers, Travis and Connor, would be together. No surprise. They did everything together. Clarisse was with Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin—melee and ranged combat combined, they would be a tough combo to beat. Quintus kept rattling off the names until he said, "Percy Jackson with Annabeth Chase."

"Nice." Percy grinned at Annabeth.

"Your armour is crooked" was her only comment, and she redid his straps for him.

"Grover Underwood," Quintus said, "with Tyson."

Grover just about jumped out of his goat fur. "What? B-but—"

"No, no," Tyson whimpered. "Must be a mistake. Goat boy—"

"No complaining!" Quintus ordered. "Get with your partner. You have two minutes to prepare!"

Tyson and Grover both looked at Percy pleadingly. He tried to give them an encouraging nod and gestured that they should move together. Tyson sneezed. Grover started chewing nervously on his wooden club.

"They'll be fine," Annabeth said. "Come on. Let's worry about how we're going to stay alive."

* * *

It was still light when they got into the woods, but the shadows from the trees made it feel like midnight. It was cold, too, even in summer. Annabeth and Percy found tracks almost immediately—scuttling marks made by something with a lot of legs. They began to follow the trail.

They jumped a creek and heard some twigs snapping nearby. They crouched behind a boulder, but it was only the Stoll brothers tripping through the woods and cursing. Their dad was the god of thieves, but they were about as stealthy as buffaloes.

Once the Stolls had passed, Annabeth and Percy forged deeper into the west woods where the monsters were wilder. They were standing on a ledge overlooking a marshy pond when Annabeth tensed. "This is where we stopped looking."

It took Percy a second to realize what she meant. Last winter, when they'd given up hope of finding him, Grover, Annabeth, and Percy had stood on this rock, and Percy'd convinced them not to tell Chiron the truth: that Nico was a son of Hades. At the time it seemed the right thing to do. Percy wanted to protect his identity. Percy wanted to be the one to find him and make things right for what had happened to his sister. Now, six months later, Percy hadn't even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I saw him last night," Percy said.

Annabeth knit her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Percy told her about an Iris-message he received in the middle of the night. When he was done, she stared into the shadows of the woods. "He's summoning the dead? That's not good."

"The ghost was giving him bad advice," Percy said. "Telling him to take revenge."

"Yeah… spirits are never good advisers they've got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living."

"He's going to come after me," Percy said. "The spirit mentioned a maze."

She nodded. "That settles it. We have to figure out the Labyrinth."

"Maybe," Percy said uncomfortably. "But who sent the Iris-message? If Nico didn't know I was there—"

A branch snapped in the woods. Dry leaves rustled. Something large was moving in the trees, just beyond the ridge.

"That's not the Stoll brothers," Annabeth whispered. Together they drew their swords.

* * *

They got to Zeus's Fist, a huge pile of boulders in the middle of the west woods. It was a natural landmark where campers often rendezvoused on hunting expeditions, but now there was nobody around.

"Over there," Annabeth whispered.

"No, wait," Percy said. "Behind us."

It was weird. Scuttling noises seemed to be coming from several different directions. They were circling the boulders, their swords drawn, when someone right behind them said, "Hi."

They whirled around, and the tree nymph Juniper yelped.

"Put those down!" she protested. "Dryads don't like sharp blades, okay?"

"Juniper," Annabeth exhaled. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

Percy lowered his sword. "In the boulders?"

She pointed toward the edge of the clearing. "In the juniper. Duh."

Dryads couldn't go very far away from their tree, which was the source of life.

"Are you guys busy?" Juniper asked.

"Well," he said, "we're in the middle of this game against a bunch of monsters and we're trying not to die."

"We're not busy," Annabeth said. "What's wrong, Juniper?"

Juniper sniffled. She wiped her silky sleeve under her eyes. "It's Grover. He seems so distraught. All year he's been out looking for Pan. And every time he comes back, it's worse. I thought maybe, at first, he was seeing another tree."

"No," Annabeth said as Juniper started crying. "I'm sure that's not it."

"He had a crush on a blueberry bush once," Juniper said miserably.

"Juniper," Annabeth said, "Grover would never even _look_ at another tree. He's just stressed out about his searcher's license."

"He can't go underground!" she protested. "You can't let him."

Annabeth looked uncomfortable. "It might be the only way to help him; if we just knew where to start."

"Ah." Juniper wiped a green tear off her cheek. "About that…"

Another rustle in the woods and Juniper yelled, "Hide!"

Before anyone could ask why she went _poof_ into green mist.

Annabeth and Percy turned. Coming out of the woods was a glistening amber insect, ten feet long, with jagged pincers, an armoured tail, and a stinger as long as Percy's sword Riptide. A scorpion. Tied to its back was a red silk package.

"One of us gets behind it," Annabeth said, as the thing clattered toward us. "Cuts off its tail while the other distracts it in front."

"I'll take point," he said. "You've got the invisibility hat."

She nodded. They'd fought together so many times they knew each other's moves. They could do this easily. But it all went wrong when the other two scorpions appeared from the woods.

" _Three?_ " Annabeth said. "That's not possible! The whole woods and half the monsters come at us?"

The scorpions scurried toward them, whipping their barbed tails like they'd come here just to kill them. Annabeth and Percy put our backs against the nearest boulder.

"Climb?" Percy said.

"No time," she said.

She was right. The scorpions were already surrounding them. They were so close he could see their hideous mouths foaming, anticipating an ice juicy meal of demigods.

"Look out!" Annabeth parried away a stinger with the flat of her blade. Percy stabbed with Riptide, but the scorpion backed out of range. They clambered sideways along the boulders, but the scorpions followed them. He slashed at another one, but going on the offensive was too dangerous. If he went for the body, the tail stabbed downward. If he went for the tail, the thing's pincers came from either side and tried to grab him. All they could do was defend, and they wouldn't be able to keep that up for very long.

All of a sudden, the boy from the sword area and his twin came to help. They lanced near to Percy and Annabeth, and climbed up the rocks, buying them valuable time for rest.

"Thanks, I'm Annabeth, he's Percy. Who are you?" Annabeth asked.

"I'm Mike, and he's Orel," said the boy.

They continued to fend off the scorpions, yet the scorpions' attacks show no sign of slowing down, while they are growing tired and weary.

Percy took another step sideways to dodge the pincers of the scorpions, and suddenly there was nothing behind him. It was a crack between two of the largest boulders, something he'd passed by a million times, but…

"In here," Percy said.

Annabeth sliced at a scorpion then looked at him like he was crazy. " _In there?_ It's too narrow."

"I'll cover you. Go!"

Mike and Orel quickly entered the crack, while Annabeth ducked behind him and started squeezing between the two boulders. Then she yelped and grabbed his armour straps, and suddenly he was tumbling into a pit that hadn't been there a moment before. He could see the scorpions above us, the purple evening sky and the trees, and then the hole shut like the lens of a camera, and they were in complete darkness.

Their breathing echoed against stone. It was wet and cold. Percy was sitting on a bumpy floor that seemed to be made of bricks.

He lifted Riptide. The faint glow of the blade was just enough to illuminate Annabeth's frightened face and the mossy stone walls on either side of them.

Just then, Orel took off the necklace he's been wearing. On the end of the necklace was a small glass bottle filled with liquid, which glowed brilliantly as soon as he touches it.

"What was that?" Percy asked, relieved by the sudden abundance of light.

"It is a relic we picked up during our troubles, at least we don't have to worry about monsters sneaking on us," Astra replied.

"Wh-where are we?" Annabeth said.

"Safe from the scorpions, anyway," Percy tried to sound calm, but he was freaking out. The crack between the boulders couldn't have led into a cave. He would've known if there was a cave here; he was sure of it. It was like the ground had opened up and swallowed them. All he could think of was the fissure in the dining room pavilion, where those skeletons had been consumed last summer. He wondered if the same thing had happened to us.

"It's a long corridor," I muttered.

Percy started forward, but Annabeth stopped him. "Don't take another step," she warned. "We need to look for the exit."

She sounded really scared now.

"It's okay," he promised. "It's right—"

Percy looked up and realized he couldn't see where they'd fallen in. The ceiling was solid stone. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

"Two steps back," she advised.

They stepped backwards together like they were in a minefield.

"Okay," she said. "Help me examine the walls."

"What for?"

"The mark of Daedalus," she said as if that was supposed to make sense.

"Uh, okay. What kind of—"

"Got it!" she said with relief. She set her hand on the wall and pressed against a tiny fissure, which began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared: ∆, the Ancient Greek Delta.

The roof slid open and they saw the night sky, stars blazing. It was a lot darker than it should've been. Metal ladder rungs appeared in the side of the wall, leading up, and Percy could hear people yelling their names.

"Percy! Annabeth!" Tyson's voice bellowed the loudest, but others were calling out too.

Percy looked nervously at Annabeth. Then they began to climb.

* * *

They made their way around the rocks and ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches.

"Where have you been?" Clarisse demanded.

"We've been looking forever."

"But we were gone only a few minutes," Percy said.

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Grover.

"Percy!" Tyson said. "You are okay?"

"We're fine," Percy said. "We fell in a hole."

The others looked at him sceptically, then at Annabeth, while Mike and Orel went to talk with their friends.

"Honest!" Percy said. "There were three scorpions after us, so we ran and hid in the rocks. But we were only gone a minute."

"You've been missing for almost an hour," Chiron said. "The game is over."

"Yeah," Grover muttered. "We would've won, but a Cyclops sat on me."

"Was an accident!" Tyson protested, and then he sneezed.

Clarisse was wearing the gold laurels, but she didn't even brag about winning them, which wasn't like her. "A hole?" she said suspiciously.

Annabeth took a deep breath. She looked around at the other campers. "Chiron… maybe we should talk about this at the Big House."

Clarisse gasped. "You found it, didn't you?"

Annabeth bit her lip. "I—Yeah. Yeah, we did."

A bunch of campers started asking questions, looking about as confused as Percy was, but Chiron raised his hand for silence. "Tonight is not the right time, and this is not the right place." He stared at boulders as if he'd just noticed how dangerous they were. "All of you, back to your cabins. Get some sleep. A game well played, but curfew is past!"

There was a lot of mumbling and complaints, but the campers drifted off, talking among themselves and giving Percy suspicious looks.

"This explains a lot," Clarisse said. "It explains what Luke is after."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "What do you mean? What did we find?"

Annabeth turned toward him, her eyes dark with worry. "An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp."

* * *

Unbeknownst to the campers, Mike and his friends turned towards the forests. A person, dressed in a robe of midnight blue velvet with flowing sleeves over a shirt of dark purple figured silk, approached them. He wore a silver-like circlet on his head, his blue-black hair braided. Around his neck, he wore a pendant of gold and onyx with an emblem of the Sun-in-Eclipse.

"So they have discovered the entrance?" the mysterious man asked.

"Yes, my lord," Mike and Orel replied simultaneously.

"Gifted them the Phial, they shall need it much in this quest," he said, "They do not trust you yet, although, at times of crisis, you will prove your trust to them."

"Understood," they said unanimously.

The man smiled slightly, "Well, I better head back to Valinor, Manwe is expecting a report from me. I wish you all good luck," And he faded into the night.


	5. Chapter 3: Prophecy

**Chapter 3: Prophecy**

Chiron had insisted they talk about it in the morning, which was kind of like, " _Hey, your life's in mortal danger. Sleep tight!_ " It was hard to fall asleep, but when Percy finally did, he dreamed of a prison.

He saw a guy in a Greek tunic and sandals crouching alone in a massive stone room. The ceiling was open to the night sky, but the walls were twenty feet high and polished marble, completely smooth. Scattered around the room were wooden crates. Some were cracked and tipped over as if they'd been flung in there. Bronze tools spilt out of one—a compass, a saw, and a bunch of other things Percy didn't recognize.

The boy huddled in the corner, shivering from cold, or maybe fear. He was spattered in mud. His legs, arms, and face, were scraped up as if he'd been dragged here along with the boxes.

Then the double oak doors moaned open. Two guards in bronze armour marched in, holding an old man between them. They flung him to the floor in a battered heap.

"Father!" The boy ran to him. The man's robes were in tatters. His hair was streaked with grey, and his beard was long and curly. His nose had been broken. His lips were bloody.

The boy took the old man's head in his arms. "What did they do to you?" then he yelled at the guards. "I'll kill you!"

"There will be no killing today," a voice said.

The guards moved aside. Behind them stood a tall man in white robes. He wore a thin circlet of gold on his head. His beard was pointed like a spear blade. His eyes glittered cruelly. "You helped the Athenian kill my Minotaur, Daedalus. You turned my one daughter against me."

"You did that yourself, Your Majesty," the old man croaked.

A guard planted a kick in the old man's ribs. He groaned in agony. The young boy cried, "Stop!"

"You love your maze so much," the king said, "I have decided to let you stay here. This will be your workshop. Make me new wonders. Amuse me. Every maze needs a monster. You will be mine!"

"I don't fear you," the old man groaned.

The king smiled coldly. He locked his eyes on the boy. "But a man cares about his son, eh? Displease me, old man, and the next time my guards inflict punishment, it will be on him!"

The king swept out of the room with his guards, and the doors slammed shut, leaving the boy and his father alone in the darkness.

"What shall we do?" the boy moaned. "Father, they will kill you!"

The old man swallowed with difficulty. He tried to smile, but it was a gruesome sight with his bloody mouth.

"Take heart, my son." He gazed up at the stars. "I—I will find a way."

A bar lowered across the doors with a fatal _BOOM_ , and Percy woke in a cold sweat.

* * *

Percy was still feeling shaky the next morning when Chiron called a war council. They met in the sword arena, which Percy thought was pretty strange — trying to discuss the fate of the camp while Mrs O'Leary chewed on a life-size squeaky pink rubber yak.

Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapon racks. Clarisse and Annabeth sat next to each other and led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present around the table: Juniper the tree nymph, Silena Beauregard, Travis and Connor Stoll, Beckendorf, Lee Fletcher, even Argus, their hundred-eyed security chief, which made Percy know it was serious. since Argus hardly ever shows up unless something really major is going on. The whole time Annabeth spoke, Argus kept his hundred blue eyes trained on her so hard his whole body turned bloodshot.

"Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Annabeth said. "He knew everything about camp."

Percy thought he heard a little pride in her voice, as though she still respected the guy, evil as he was.

Juniper cleared her throat. "That's what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it."

Silena Beauregard frowned. "You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn't say anything?"

Juniper's face turned green. "I didn't know it was important. Just a cave. I don't like yucky old caves."

"She has good taste," Grover said.

"I wouldn't have paid any attention except… well, it was Luke." She blushed a little greener.

Grover huffed. "Forget what I said about good taste."

"Interesting," Quintus polished his sword as he spoke. "And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse said. "If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. He could wipe us out easy. He must've been planning this for months."

"He's been sending scouts into the maze," Annabeth said. "We know because… because we found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the… Yes, I understand."

"The one in the what?" Percy asked.

Clarisse glared at him. "The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He's searching for Daedalus's workshop."

Percy remembered his dream the night before — the bloody old man in tattered robes. "The guy who created the maze."

"Yes," Annabeth said. "The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, his workshop is in the centre of the Labyrinth. He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted—quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then… to Olympus."

The arena was silent except for Mrs O'Leary's toy yak getting disembowelled: _SQUEAK! SQUEAK!_

Finally, Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Back up a sec, Annabeth, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't Daedalus dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. "That's the problem, my dear Quintus. No one knows. There are rumours… well, there are _many_ disturbing rumours about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be there."

Percy thought about the old man he'd seen in his dreams. He'd looked so frail, it was hard to believe he'd lasted another week, much less three thousand years.

"We need to go in," Annabeth announced. "We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help us, not Luke. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke's hands."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "If we're worried about an attack, why not just blow up the entrance? Seal the tunnel?"

"Great idea!" Grover said. "I'll get the dynamite!"

"It's not so easy, stupid," Clarisse growled. "We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

Annabeth nodded. "The Labyrinth is magical architecture, Percy. It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth."

"We could fight," Lee Fletcher said. "We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they'll find us waiting with our bows."

"We will certainly set up defences," Chiron agreed. "But I fear Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept this camp safe for hundreds of years. If Luke manages to get a large army of monsters into the centre of camp, bypassing our boundaries… we may not have the strength to defeat them."

Nobody looked really happy about that news. Chiron usually tried to be upbeat and optimistic. If he was predicting we couldn't hold off an attack, that wasn't good.

"We have to get to Daedalus's workshop first," Annabeth insisted. "Find Ariadne's string and prevent Luke from using it."

"But if nobody can navigate in there," Percy said, "what chance do we have?"

"I've been studying architecture for years," she said. "I know Daedalus's Labyrinth better than anybody."

"From reading about it."

"Well, yes."

"That's not enough."

"It has to be!"

"It isn't!"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Percy realised everyone was watching Annabeth and him like a tennis match. Mrs O'Leary's squeaky yak went _EEK!_ As she ripped off its pink rubber head.

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade this camp."

"We all know who should lead this," Clarisse said. "Annabeth."

There was a murmur of agreement. Percy knew Annabeth had been waiting for her own quest since she was a little kid, but she looked uncomfortable.

"You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," she said. "You should go, too."

Clarisse shook her head. "I'm not going back in there."

Travis Stoll laughed. "Don't tell me you're scared. Clarisse, chicken?"

Clarisse got to her feet, Percy thought she was going to pulverize Travis, but she said in a shaky voice: "You don't understand anything, punk. I'm never going in there again. Never!"

She stormed out of the arena.

Travis looked around sheepishly. "I didn't mean to—"

Chiron raised his hand. "The poor girl has had a difficult year. Now, do we have agreement that Annabeth should lead the quest?"

They all nodded except Quintus. He folded his arms and stared at the table, but Percy wasn't sure anyone else noticed.

"Very well," Chiron turned to Annabeth. "My dear, it's your time to visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one piece, we shall discuss what to do next."

* * *

For Percy, waiting for Annabeth was harder than visiting the Oracle himself.

He'd heard it speak prophecies twice before. The first time had been in the dusty attic of the Big House, where the spirit of Delphi slept inside the body of a mummified hippie lady. The second time, the Oracle had come out for a little stroll in the woods. He still had nightmares about that.

He'd never felt threatened by the Oracle's presence, but he'd heard stories: campers who'd gone insane, or who'd seen visions so real they died of fear.

He paced the arena, waiting. Mrs O'Leary ate her lunch, which consisted of a hundred pounds of ground beef and several dog biscuits the size of trash-can lids.

Chiron was deep in conversation with Quintus and Argus. It looked to Percy like they were disagreeing about something. Quintus kept shaking his head.

On the other side of the arena, Tyson and the Stoll brothers were racing miniature bronze chariots that Tyson had made out of armour scraps.

Percy gave up on pacing and left the arena. He stared across the fields at the Big House's attic window, dark and still. What was taking Annabeth so long? He was pretty sure it hadn't taken him that long to get his quest.

"Percy," a girl whispered. Juniper was standing in the bushes.

She gestured him over urgently. "You need to know: Luke wasn't the only one I saw around that cave."

"What do you mean?"

She glanced back at the arena. "I was trying to say something, but he was right there."

"Who?"

"The swordmaster," she said. "He was poking around the rocks."

Percy's stomach clenched. "Quintus? When?"

"I don't know: I don't pay attention to time. Maybe a week ago, when he first showed up."

"What was he doing? Did he go in?"

"I—I'm not sure. He's creepy, Percy. I didn't even see him come into the glade. Suddenly he was just _there_. You have to tell Grover it's too dangerous—"

"Juniper?" Grover called from inside the arena. "Where'd you go?"

Juniper sighed. "I'd better go in. Just remember what I said. Don't trust that man!"

She ran into the arena.

Percy stared at the Big House, feeling more uneasy than ever. If Quintus was up to something… He needed Annabeth's advice. She might know what to make of Juniper's news. But where the heck was she? Whatever was happening with the Oracle, it shouldn't be taking this long.

Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore.

It was against the rules, but then again, nobody was watching. He ran down the hill and headed across the fields.

* * *

The front parlour of the Big House was strangely quiet. Percy was used to seeing Dionysus by the fireplace, playing cards and eating grapes and griping at satyrs, but Mr D was still away.

Percy walked down the hallway, floorboards creaking under his feet. When he got to the base of the stairs, he hesitated. Four floors above would be a little trapdoor leading to the attic. Annabeth would be up there somewhere. He stood quietly and listened. But what he heard wasn't what he had expected.

Sobbing. And it was coming from below him.

Percy crept around the back of the stairs. The basement door was open. He peered inside and saw two figures in the far corner, sitting amid a bunch of stockpiled cases of ambrosia and strawberry preserves. One was Clarisse. The other was a teenage Hispanic guy in tattered camouflage pants and a dirty black T-shirt. His hair was greasy and matted. He was hugging his shoulders and sobbing. It was Chris Rodriguez, the half-blood who'd gone to work for Luke.

"It's okay," Clarisse was telling him. "Try a little more nectar."

"You're an illusion, Mary!" Chris backed farther into the corner. "G-get away."

"My name's not Mary." Clarisse's voice was gentle but really sad. "My name is Clarisse. Remember. Please."

"It's dark!" Chris yelled. "So dark!"

"Come outside," Clarisse coaxed. "The sunlight will help you."

"A… a thousand skulls. The earth keeps healing him."

"Chris," Clarisse pleaded. It sounded like she was close to tears. "You have to get better. Please. Mr D will be back soon. He's an expert in madness. Just hang on."

Chris's eyes were like a cornered rat's—wild and desperate. "There's no way out, Mary. No way out."

Then he caught a glimpse of Percy and made a strangled, terrified sound. "The son of Poseidon! He's horrible!"

Percy backed away, hoping Clarisse hadn't seen him. He listened for her to come charging out and yell at him, but instead, she just kept talking to Chris in a sad pleading voice, trying to get him to drink the nectar. "Maybe she thought it was part of Chris's hallucination, but… _son of Poseidon?_ Chris had been looking at me, and yet why did I get the feeling he hadn't been talking about me at all?" Percy thought.

"And Clarisse's tenderness—it had never even occurred to me that she might like someone, but the way she said Chris's name… She'd known him before he changed sides. She'd known him a lot better than I realized. And now he was shivering in a dark basement, afraid to come out, and mumbling about someone named Mary. No wonder Clarisse didn't want anything to do with the Labyrinth. What had happened to Chris in there?" He continued thinking.

Just then, he heard a creak from above—like the attic door opening—and he ran for the front door. He needed to get out of that house.

* * *

"My dear," Chiron said. "You made it."

Annabeth looked at Percy first. He couldn't tell if she was trying to warn him, or if the look in her eyes was just plain fear. Then she focused on Quintus. "I got the prophecy. I will lead the quest to find Daedalus's workshop."

Nobody cheered. Though they all liked Annabeth, and they wanted her to have a quest, but this one seemed insanely dangerous. After what Percy'd seen of Chris Rodriguez, he didn't even want to think about Annabeth descending into that weird maze again.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. "What did the prophecy say exactly, my dear? The wording is important."

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I, ah… well, it said, _you shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze…_ "

They waited.

" _The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise._ "

Grover perked up. "The lost one! That must mean Pan! That's great!"

"With the dead and the traitor," Percy added. "Not so great."

"And?" Chiron asked. "What is the rest?"

" _You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand,_ " Annabeth said, " _the child of Athena's final stand._ "

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Annabeth was a daughter of Athena, and a final stand didn't sound good.

"Hey… we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Silena said. "Annabeth isn't the only child of Athena, right?"

"But who's this ghost king?" Beckendorf asked.

No one answered. Percy thought about the Iris-message he'd seen of Nico summoning spirits. He had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that.

"Are there more lines?" Chiron asked. "The prophecy does not sound complete."

Annabeth hesitated. "I don't remember exactly."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. Annabeth was known for her memory. She never forgot something she heard.

Annabeth shifted on her bench. "Something about… _Destroy with a hero's final breath._ "

"And?" Chiron asked.

"There is also a warning," Annabeth said.

"The Oracle never issues warnings… What's the warning?"

Annabeth responded immediately, " _Powers greater than Gods arise, come as emissaries in mortals' guise._ "

"Powers greater than Gods?" several people exclaimed.

"Any more?" Chiron asked, wanting to lessen the shock brought by the sudden revelation "The prophecy seems incomplete."

She stood. "Look, the point is, I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Luke. And… I need help." She turned to Percy. "Will you come?"

He didn't even hesitate. "I'm in."

She smiled for the first time in days, and that made it all worthwhile for Percy. "Grover, you too? The wild god is waiting."

Grover seemed to forget how much he hated the underground. The line about the "lost one" had completely energized him. "I'll pack extra recyclables for snacks!"

"And Tyson," Annabeth said. "I'll need you too."

"Yay! Blow-things-up time!" Tyson clapped so hard he woke up Mrs. O'Leary, who was dozing in the corner.

"Wait, Annabeth," Chiron said. "This goes against the ancient laws. A hero is allowed only two companions."

"I need them all," she insisted. "Chiron, it's important."

Percy didn't know why she was so certain, but he was happy she'd included Tyson. Percy couldn't imagine leaving him behind. Tyson was huge and strong and great at figuring out mechanical things. Unlike satyrs, Cyclopes had no problem underground.

"Annabeth." Chiron flicked his tail nervously. "Consider well. You would be breaking the ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Last winter, five went on a quest to save Artemis. Only three came back. Think on that. Three is a sacred number. There are three fates, three furies, three Olympian sons of Kronos. It is a good strong number that stands against many dangers. Four… this is risky."

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I know. But we have to. Please."

Percy could tell Chiron didn't like it. Quintus was studying them like he was trying to decide which of them would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

* * *

Quintus pulled Percy aside as the council was breaking up.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he told Percy.

Mrs. O'Leary came over, wagging her tail happily. She dropped her shield at his feet, and he threw it for her. Quintus watched her romp after it. Percy remembered what Juniper had said about Quintus scouting out the maze. Percy didn't trust him, but when he looked at Percy, he saw real concern in his eyes.

"I don't like the idea of you going down there," he said. "Any of you. but if you must, I want you to remember something. The Labyrinth exists to fool you. It will distract you. That's dangerous for half-bloods. We are easily distracted."

"You've been in there?"

"Long ago." His voice was ragged. "I barely escaped with my life. Most who enter aren't that lucky."

He gripped Percy's shoulder. "Percy, keep your mind on what matters most. If you can do that, you might find the way. And here, I wanted to give you something."

He handed Percy a little silver tube. It was so cold I almost dropped it.

"A whistle?" Percy asked.

"A dog whistle," Quintus said. "For Mrs. O'Leary."

"Um, thanks, but—"

"How will it work in the maze? I'm not a hundred percent certain it will. But Mrs. O'Leary is a hellhound. She can appear when called, no matter how far away she is. I'd feel better knowing you had this. If you really need help, use it; but be careful, the whistle is made of Stygian ice."

" _What_ ice?"

"From the River Styx. Very hard to craft. Very delicate. It cannot melt, but it will shatter when you blow it, so you can only use it once."

Percy thought about Luke, his old enemy. Right before he'd gone on his first quest, Luke had given him a gift, too—magic shoes that had been designed to drag Percy to his death. Quintus seemed nice. So concerned. And Mrs. O'Leary liked him, which had to count for something. She dropped the slimy shield at Percy's feet and barked excitedly.

Percy felt ashamed that he could even think about mistrusting Quintus. But then again, he'd trusted Luke once.

"Thanks," Percy told Quintus. He slipped the freezing whistle into his pocket, promising himself that he would never use it, and he dashed off to find Annabeth.

* * *

As long as Percy'd been at camp, he'd never been inside the Athena cabin.

It was a silvery building, nothing fancy, with plain white curtains and a carved stone owl over the doorway. The owl's onyx eyes seemed to follow him as I walked closer.

"Hello?" he called inside.

Nobody answered. Percy stepped in and caught my breath. The place was a workshop for brainiac kids. The bunks were all pushed against one wall as if sleeping didn't matter very much. Most of the room was filled with workbenches and tables and sets of tools and weapons. The back of the room was a huge library crammed with old scrolls and leather-bound books and paperbacks. There was an architect's drafting table with a bunch of rulers and protractors, and some 3-D models of buildings. Huge old war maps were plastered to the ceiling. Sets of armour hung under the windows, their bronze plates glinting in the sun.

Annabeth stood in the back of the room, rifling through old scrolls.

"Knock, knock?" Percy said.

She turned with a start. "Oh… hi. Didn't hear you."

"You okay?"

She frowned at the scroll in her hands. "Just trying to do some research. Daedalus's Labyrinth is so huge. None of the stories agree about anything. The maps just lead from nowhere to nowhere."

Percy thought about what Quintus had said, how the maze tries to distract you. He wondered if Annabeth knew that already.

"We'll figure it out," Percy promised.

Her hair had come loose and was hanging in a tangled blond curtain all around her face. Her grey eyes looked almost black.

"I've wanted to lead a quest since I was seven," she said.

"You're going to do awesome."

She looked at him gratefully, but then stared down at all the books and scrolls she'd pulled from the shelves. "I'm worried, Percy. Maybe I shouldn't have asked you to do this. Or Tyson or Grover."

"Hey, we're your friends. We wouldn't miss it."

"But… " She stopped herself.

"What is it?" he asked. "The prophecy?"

"I'm sure it's fine," she said in a small voice.

"What was the last line?"

Then she did something that really surprised Percy. She blinked back tears and put out her arms.

Percy stepped forward and hugged her. Butterflies started turning his stomach into a mosh pit.

"Hey, it's… it's okay." he patted her back.

Percy was aware of everything in the room. He felt like he could read the tiniest print on any book on the shelves. Annabeth's hair smelled like lemon soap. She was shivering.

"Chiron might be right," she muttered. "I'm breaking the rules. But I don't know what else to do. I need you three. It just feels right."

"Then don't worry about it," Percy managed. "We've had plenty of problems before, and we solved them."

"This is different. I don't want anything happening to… any of you." Behind Percy, somebody cleared his throat.

It was one of Annabeth's half-brothers, Malcolm. His face was bright red.

"Um, sorry," he said. "Archery practice is starting, Annabeth. Chiron said to come find you."

Percy stepped away from Annabeth. "We were just looking at maps," he said stupidly.

Malcolm stared at him. "Okay."

"Tell Chiron I'll be right there," Annabeth said, and Malcolm left in a hurry.

Annabeth rubbed her eyes. "You go ahead, Percy. I'd better get ready for archery."

Percy nodded, feeling more confused than he ever had in his life. He wanted to run from the cabin… but then again he didn't.

"Annabeth?" Percy said. "About your prophecy. The line about a hero's last breath—"

"You're wondering which hero? I don't know."

"No. Something else. I was thinking the last line usually rhymes with the one before it. Was it something about—did it end in the word _death_?"

Annabeth stared down at her scrolls. "You'd better go, Percy. Get ready for the quest. I'll—I'll see you in the morning."

Percy left her there, staring at maps that led from nowhere to nowhere; but he couldn't shake the feeling that one of them wasn't going to come back from this quest alive.


	6. Chapter 4: Into the Labyrinth

**Chapter 4: Into the Labyrinth**

That night in Percy's dreams, he was in the stateroom of the _Princess Andromeda_. The windows were open on a moonlit sea. Cold wind rustled the velvet drapes.

Luke knelt on a Persian rug in front of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. In the moonlight, Luke's blond hair looked pure white. He wore an ancient Greek _chiton_ and a white _himation_ , a kind of cape that flowed down his shoulders. The white clothes made him look timeless and a little surreal, like one of the minor gods on Mount Olympus. The last time Percy'd seen him, he'd been broken and unconscious after a nasty fall from Mount Tam. Now he looked perfectly fine. Almost _too_ healthy.

"Our spies report success, my lord," he said. "Camp Half-Blood is sending a quest, as you predicted. Our side of the bargain is almost complete."

 _Excellent._ The voice of Kronos didn't so much speak as pierce Percy's mind like a dagger. It was freezing with cruelty. _Once we have the means to navigate, I will lead the vanguard through myself._

Luke closed his eyes as if collecting his thoughts. "My lord, perhaps it is too soon. Perhaps Krios or Hyperion should lead—"

 _No._ the voice was quiet but absolutely firm. _I will lead. One more heart shall join our cause, and that will be sufficient. At last, I shall rise fully from Tartarus._

"But the form, my lord…" Luke's voice started shaking.

 _Show me your sword, Luke Castellan._

Luke drew his sword. Backbiter's double edge glowed wickedly—half steel, half celestial bronze. Percy'd almost been killed several times by that sword. It was an evil weapon, able to kill both mortals and monsters. It was the only blade he really feared.

 _You pledged yourself to me,_ Kronos reminded him. _You took this sword as proof of your oath._

"Yes, my lord. It's just—"

 _You wanted power. I gave you that. You are now beyond harm. Soon you will rule the world of gods and mortals. Do you not wish to avenge yourself? To see Olympus destroyed?_

A shiver ran through Luke's body. "Yes."

The coffin glowed, golden light filling the room. _Then make ready the strike force. As soon as the bargain is done, we shall move forward. First, Camp Half-Blood will be reduced to ashes. Once those bothersome heroes are eliminated, we will march on Olympus. The Powers are stirring, I can feel their presence if in this state. We will find them and enlist them in our services, do you know of these Powers?_

Luke was puzzled by the Titan's words. "No, my lord."

 _They are ancient powerful beings the Titans and Gods regard as myths and legends. I alone had been trusted with this knowledge by Gaia. We shall persuade these Powers to our service, and our dominance of the world would be ensured._

There was a knock on the stateroom doors. The light of the coffin faded. Luke rose. He sheathed his sword, adjusted his white clothes, and took a deep breath.

"Come in."

The doors opened. Two _dracaenae_ slithered in—snake women with double serpent trunks instead of legs. Between them walked Kelli, the _empousa_ cheerleader from Percy's freshman orientation.

"Hello, Luke," Kelli smiled. She was wearing a red dress and she looked awesome, but Percy'd seen her real form. He knew what she was hiding: mismatched legs, red eyes, fangs, and flaming hair.

"What is it, demon?" Luke's voice was cold. "I told you not to disturb me."

Kelli pouted. "That's not very nice. You look tense. How about a nice shoulder massage?"

Luke stepped back. "If you have something to report, say it. Otherwise leave!"

"I don't know why you're so huffy these days. You _used_ to be fun to hang around."

"That was before I saw what you did to that boy in Seattle."

"Oh, he meant nothing to me," Kelli said. "Just a snack, really. You know my heart belongs to you, Luke."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Now report or get out."

Kelli shrugged. "Fine. The advanced team is ready, as you surprised. We can leave—" She frowned.

"What is it?" Luke asked.

"A presence," Kelli said. "Your senses are getting dull, Luke. We're being watched."

She scanned the stateroom. Her eyes focused right on me. Her face withered into a hag's. She bared her fangs and lunged, and a soft white light blinded everyone in the room. Percy then heard a single command, _Wake._

* * *

Percy woke with a start, his heart pounding. He could've sworn the empousa's fangs were an inch from his throat.

Tyson was snoring in the next bunk. The sound calmed Percy down a little.

He didn't know how Kelli could sense him in a dream, but he'd heard more than he wanted to know. An army was ready. Kronos would lead it personally. All they needed was a way to navigate the Labyrinth so they could invade and destroy Camp Half-Blood, and Luke apparently thought that was going to happen very soon. Kronos apparently want to hire the Powers who are supposedly are more powerful than the Gods.

Percy was tempted to go wake up Annabeth and tell her, middle of the night or not. Then he realized the room was lighter than it should have been. A blue-and-green glow was coming from the saltwater fountain, brighter and more urgent than the night before. It was almost like the water was humming.

He got out of bed and approached.

No voice spoke out of the water this time, asking for a deposit. He got the feeling the fountain was waiting for him to make the first move.

He probably should've gone back to bed. Instead, he thought about what I'd seen last night—the weird image of Nico at the banks of the River Styx.

"You're trying to tell me something," Percy said.

No response from the fountain.

"All right," he said. "Show me Nico di Angelo."

He didn't even throw a coin in, but this time it didn't matter. It was like some other force had control of the water besides Iris the messenger goddess. The water shimmered. Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

He was watching some gravediggers at work. Percy heard shovels and saw dirt flying out of a hole. Nico was dressed in a black cloak. The night was foggy. It was warm and humid, and frogs were croaking. A large Wal-Mart bag sat next to Nico's feet.

"Is it deep enough yet?" Nico asked. He sounded irritated.

"Nearly, my lord." It was the same ghost I'd seen Nico with before, the faint shimmering image of a man. "But, my lord, I tell you, this is unnecessary. You already have me for advice."

"I want a second opinion!" Nico snapped his fingers, and the digging stopped. Two figures climbed out of the hole. They weren't people. They were skeletons in ragged clothes.

"You are dismissed," Nico said. "Thank you."

The skeletons collapsed into piles of bones.

"You might as well thank the shovels," the ghost complained. "They have as much sense."

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can. Instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave.

"Let the dead taste again," he murmured. "Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember."

He dropped the rest of the Cokes into the grave and pulled out a white paper bag decorated with cartoons. Percy hadn't seen one in years, but he recognized it—a McDonald's Happy Meal.

Nico turned it upside down and shook the fries and hamburger into the grave.

"In my day, we used animal blood," the ghost mumbled. "It's perfectly good enough. They can't taste the difference."

"I will treat them with respect," Nico said.

"At least let me keep the toy," the ghost said.

"Be quiet!" Nico ordered. He emptied another twelve-pack of soda and three more Happy Meals into the grave, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. Percy caught only some of the words—a lot about the dead and memories and returning from the grave. Real happy stuff.

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like the whole thing was filling with soda. The fog thickened. The frogs stopped croaking. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones: bluish, vaguely human shapes. Nico had summoned the dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

"There are too many," the ghost said nervously. "You don't know your own powers."

"I've got it under control," Nico said, though his voice sounded fragile. He drew his sword—a short blade made of black Stygian iron. The crowd of shades retreated at the sight of it.

"One at a time," Nico commanded.

A single figure floated forward and knelt at the pool. It made slurping sounds as it drank. Its ghostly hands scooped French fries out of the pool.

When it stood again, Percy could see it much more clearly—a teenage guy in Greek armour. He had curly hair and green eyes, a clasp shaped like a seashell on his cloak.

"Who are you?" Nico said. "Speak."

The young man frowned as if trying to remember. Then he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: "I am Theseus."

No way, Percy thought. This couldn't be the Theseus. He was just a kid. Percy'd grown up hearing stories about him fighting the Minotaur and stuff, but he'd always pictured him as this huge, buff guy. The ghost he was looking at wasn't strong or tall. And he wasn't any older than he was.

"How can I retrieve my sister?" Nico asked.

Theseus's eyes were lifeless as glass. "Do not try. It is madness."

"Just tell me!"

"My stepfather died," Theseus remembered. "He threw himself into the sea because he thought I was dead in the Labyrinth. I wanted to bring him back, but I could not."

Nico's ghost hissed. "My lord, the soul exchange! Ask him about that!"

Theseus scowled. "That voice. I know that voice."

"No you don't, fool!" the ghost said. "Answer the lord's questions and nothing more!"

"I know you," Theseus insisted, as if struggling to recall.

"I want to hear about my sister," Nico said. "Will this quest into the Labyrinth help me win her back?"

Theseus was looking for the ghost but apparently couldn't see him. Slowly he turned his eyes back on Nico. "The Labyrinth is treacherous. There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me."

"We don't need any of that," the ghost said. "I will guide you, my lord. Ask him if it is true about an exchange of souls. He will tell you."

"A soul for a soul," Nico asked. "Is it true?"

"I—I must say yes. But the spectre—"

"Just answer the questions, knave!" the ghost said.

Suddenly, around the edges of the pool, the other ghosts became restless. They stirred, whispering in nervous tones.

"I want to see my sister!" Nico demanded. "Where is she?"

"He is coming," Theseus said fearfully. "He has sensed your summons. He comes."

"Who?" Nico demanded.

"He comes to find the source of this power," Theseus said. "You must release us."

The water in my fountain began to tremble, humming with power. Percy realized the whole cabin was shaking. The noise grew louder. The image of Nico in the graveyard started to glow until it was painful to watch.

"Stop," Percy said out loud. "Stop it!"

The fountain began to crack. Tyson muttered in his sleep and turned over. Purple light threw horrible, ghostly shadows on the cabin walls as if the spectres were escaping right out of the fountain.

In desperation Percy uncapped riptide and slashed at the fountain, cleaving it in two. Saltwater spilt everywhere, and the great stone font crashed to the floor in pieces. Tyson snorted and muttered, but he kept sleeping.

Percy sank to the ground, shivering from what I'd seen. Tyson found him there in the morning, still staring at the shattered remains of the saltwater fountain.

* * *

Just after dawn, the quest group met at Zeus's Fist. Percy'd packed my knapsack—thermos with nectar, baggie of ambrosia, bedroll, rope, and clothes. He had Riptide in his pocket. The magic shield/wristwatch Tyson had made for him was on his wrist. The Vial of Light on his neck, a gift from Orel to provide him light in the darkness of the Labyrinth.

It was a clear morning. The fog had burned off and the sky was blue. Campers would be having their lessons today, flying pegasi and practising archery and scaling the lava wall. Meanwhile, we could be heading underground.

Juniper and Grover stood apart from the group. Juniper had been crying again, but she was trying to keep it together for Grover's sake. She kept fussing with his clothes, straightening his rasta cap and brushing goat fur off his shirt. Since we had no idea what we would encounter, he was dressed as a human, with the cap to hide his horns, and jeans, fake feet, and sneakers to hide his goat legs.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O'Leary stood with the other campers who'd come to wish them well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. A couple of tents had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Chiron had decided they needed to guard the Labyrinth exit at all times, just in case.

Annabeth was doing one last check on her supply pack. When Tyson and Percy came over to her, she frowned. "Percy, you look terrible."

"He killed the water fountain last night," Tyson confided.

"What?" she asked.

Before Percy could explain, Chiron trotted over. "Well, it appears you are ready!"

He tried to sound upbeat, but Percy could tell he was anxious. He didn't want to freak Chiron out any more, but he thought about last night's dream, and before Percy could change his mind, he said, "Hey, uh, Chiron, can I ask you a favour while I'm gone?"

"Of course, my boy."

"Be right back, guys." Percy nodded toward the woods. Chiron asked an eyebrow, but he followed Percy out of earshot.

"Last night," Percy said, "I dreamed about Luke and Kronos," he told Chiron the details. The news seemed to weigh on his shoulders.

"I feared this," Chiron said. "Against my father, Kronos, we would stand no chance in a fight."

Chiron rarely called Kronos his father. Everybody in the Greek world—god, monster, or Titan—was related to one another somehow. But it wasn't exactly something Chiron liked to brag about.

"Do you know what he meant about a bargain?" Percy asked.

"I am not sure, but I fear they seek to make a deal with Daedalus. If the old inventor is truly alive, if he has not been driven insane by millennia in the Labyrinth… well, Kronos can find ways to twist anyone to his will."

"Not anyone," Percy promised.

Chiron managed a smile. "No. Perhaps not anyone. But, Percy, you must beware. I have worried for some time that Kronos may be looking for Daedalus for a different reason, not just passage through the maze."

"What else would he want?"

"Something Annabeth and I were discussing. Do you remember what you told me about your first trip to the _Princess Andromeda_ , the first time you saw the golden coffin?"

Percy nodded. "Luke was talking about raising Kronos, little pieces of him appearing in the coffin every time someone new joined his cause."

"And what did Luke say they would do when Kronos had risen completely?"

A chill went down Percy's spine. "He said they would make Kronos a new body, worthy of the forges of Hephaestus."

"Indeed," Chiron said. "Daedalus was the world's greatest inventor. He created the Labyrinth, but much more. Automatons, thinking machines…What if Kronos wishes Daedalus to make him a new form?"

Percy's forehead furrowed.

"We've got to get to Daedalus first," Percy said, "and convince him not to."

Chiron stared off into the trees. "One other thing I do not understand…this talk of a last soul joining their cause. And these Powers that they spoke of, which are supposedly more powerful than the Gods. This does not bode well."

Percy kept his mouth shut, but he felt guilty. He'd made the decision not to tell Chiron about Nico being a son of Hades. The mention of souls, though— "What if Kronos knew about Nico? What if he managed to turn him evil?" Percy thought. It was almost enough to make Percy want to tell Chiron, but he didn't. For one thing, he wasn't sure Chiron could do anything about it. "I had to find Nico myself. I had to explain things to him, make him listen,"

"I don't know," Percy said at last. "But, uh, something Juniper said, maybe you should hear," Percy told him how the tree nymph had seen Quintus poking around the rocks.

Chiron's jaw tightened. "That does not surprise me."

"It doesn't sur—you mean you know?"

"Percy, when Quintus showed up at camp offering his services…well, I would have to be a fool not to be suspicious."

"Then why did you let him in?"

"Because sometimes it is better to have someone you mistrust close to you, so that you can keep an eye on him. He may be just what he says: a halfblood in search of a home. Certainly he has done nothing openly that would make me question his loyalty. But believe me. I will keep an eye—"

Annabeth trudged over, probably curious why they were taking so long.

"Percy, you ready?"

Percy nodded. His hand slipped into my pocket, where he kept the ice whistle Quintus had given me. He looked over and saw Quintus watching him carefully. He raised his hand in farewell.

" _Our spies report success,_ Luke had said. The same day they decided to send a quest, Luke had known about it," Percy thought.

"Take care," Chiron told them. "And good hunting."

"You too," Percy said.

They walked over to the rocks, where Tyson and Grover were waiting. Percy stared at the crack between the boulders—the entrance that was about to swallow us.

"Well," Grover said nervously, "good-bye sunshine."

"Hello rocks," Tyson agreed.

And together, the quartet descended into darkness that is the Labyrinth.


End file.
